


Everything was beautiful (and nothing hurt)

by Arnica



Series: Blocking your own shot [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnica/pseuds/Arnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His sister is the least crafty dance mom on the planet, his nephew is a tiny bundle of angst, his niece is dressed like a chicken, and Ianto Jones is convinsed that any minute now his sister is going to look at him and just *know* about Jack.<br/>The ribs are pretty good though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything was beautiful (and nothing hurt)

Ianto sits behind the wheel of his car, looking through the passenger side window at his sister's house, knowing that this will be at least a little bit of a disaster and unable to stall any longer as Mica's face appears at the window, little hand a blur as she waves him in excitedly.

Rhiannon doesn't bother greeting him, slinging the door open with her hair still undone and a mass of something huge, white and kind of feathery in her hands.

“She got up at a quarter to why-God this morning, put on her flippin chicken outfit, and managed to rip the bloody wing right off the thing. Fix it so I can get dressed because we have to be there in an hour and I still haven't made it as far as the shower yet.” Little white synthetic feathers tickle his nose as his sister shoves the mess in his face and grabs him by the arm, yanking him over to the table and shoving him down in front of another pile of muslin, shorn fake fur and one wire hanger oval covered with hot glued feathers.

“Rhi, what the fuck is this mess?” It's a rhetorical question because if there was ever a woman less suited to sewing and crafting than his sister, Ianto has yet to meet her. “Never mind, get lost and I'll fix it. Mica, sweetie, come to uncle Ianto, let me make sure this thing fits right baby.” Rhiannon starts to disappear towards the stairs and Ianto grabs her by the hem of her shirt, lowering his voice. “What exactly did you tell them we were doing this afternoon by the way?”

“Uncle Ianto!” Mica comes careening around the corner, hurling herself across the floor at him and almost blinding him with a bright yellow cardboard beak tied around her face with a white ribbon. ”Mummy says you have a _baby_ and a _girlfriend_ and David says he's _not_ calling her auntie and mummy says he doesn't have to, but I think I'm going to and I'm a big cousin now and I'm going to hold the baby and kiss him and show him how to dance like a chicken and mummy says I mustn't wear my chicken outfit to the party but daddy says no one has ever died of dressing like a chicken and _mummy_ says she might die of embarrassment...” Ianto rolls his eyes and puts one hand over his mouth, the other in the air until Mica follows suit.

“Thank you very much, chatterbox, for that rapid fire delivery of current events. First things first, let's get you into this costume so I can get it fixed.” She's got on her white leotard and yellow tights and it takes a good five minutes just to figure out how his sister has sewed the bloody thing so he can get it over his niece's head. Mostly she looks like a fuzzy white egg with another stubby little feathered egg sticking off her arm like an ugly shoulder pad, but with the other wing and the beak on he's pretty sure it'll be obvious she's a chicken and not a furry boiled egg with a growth.

“I am a _very_ pretty chicken, aren't I uncle Ianto?” She's squirming on top of the table where he sat her, and Ianto is swaying along with her excited writhing as he safety-pins the wing back on in the right position and starts stitching it on quickly.

“You will be the loveliest chicken in the barnyard, cariad.” He's muttering around the pins sticking out of the side of his mouth. “So, where are your Da and David then?”

“Dunno. David's been a big stinking butt-face forever and ever and Da took him out this morning after he knocked over the juice at breakfast and wouldn't say sorry.”

“Don't call your brother a big stinking butt-face.” Even though all the reports from his family lately point in that general direction. “It's not nice. Sit a bit more still than that please, unless you fancy the idea of being sewn into this thing forever.”  
“I do!”

“Sit still Mica.”

***

It takes fifteen minutes to sew the right wing on, plus over stitch the left to prevent a breakdown of monstrous proportions should the same failure happen backstage, and David and Johnny come in wearing matching glowers while he's doing the last of his adjustments.

“David!” Johnny's voice is a sharp snap as the boy tries to stomp up the stairs without so much as acknowledging his uncle. “Get your tatty rear end back here and say hello to your uncle before I tan it and then go get dressed.”

“Hi.” It's a sullen grunt from the stairs and Ianto winces as the boy stomps his way all the way up to the second floor and slams the door.

“Just in case you were having any delusions about teen angst starting with teenagers, there goes your warning right there, mate.” His sister's husband slumps into the dining room chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look upon him and despair. Baby! Get me a drink?”

“She's in the shower.” Ianto stands back and lifts Mica down, watching critically as she flaps her wings franticly, running in circles and making noises that are probably supposed to be chicken sounds and mostly just come across as screeching. “Mica,”

“I'm not Mica, I'm a little chicken! See?” He can't keep the squeak behind his teeth as she runs over to him, jabbing him in the thigh as she pretends to peck him.

“Okay, a _bit_ too friendly there little chicken.” He takes her by the fluffy shoulders and moves her back gently. “Go get your daddy a soda from the fridge please little chicken.” Mica runs off around the corner, still screaming chickenish sounds at the top of her lungs. “And one for me!” They flinch in tandem as the fridge door is slung open hard enough to rattle the bottles inside the door. “So, what's wrong with David?”

“Fucked if I know man, he's worse than his mother when it comes to shaking upsetting shit out of him. Don't suppose you want to tag in?” Mica comes back, still squealing and Ianto takes his drink before she shakes it enough to make it undrinkable.

“Why not? If I'm not back by the time Rhiannon's done with her hair, send the search parties.”

David's room is at the top of the stairs in the corner next to the bathroom and Ianto knocks on the door softly before letting himself in. David is slumped over on his bed, a white dress shirt balled up in his fists.

“Hey, I thought you were getting dressed, not murdering your church clothes.” The boy locks his jaw, but not fast enough to keep Ianto from seeing the wobbling of his mouth.

“This is what mum says I have to wear and I hate it! I don't want to dress up to meet your stupid new girlfriend; I never had to dress up to go see Auntie Lisa and she's American, so she won't play football with me, and she probably eats weird food and you're here for Mica's dance, but you missed _my_ game and now you've got a baby that you didn't even _tell_ me about and you won't ever have time to come see me anymore!”

Well, that clarifies things a bit. Ianto sits down with a sigh, wrapping his arm around David's shoulders and pulling his slight body tight against Ianto's side.

“David,” He's not sure where to start “Okay, first of all, you don't have to wear your bloody church clothes. Chy has a huge yard, two big dogs, a butt load of good video games, and I have no idea if she can play a proper game of football, but she has four brothers and six nephews, so probably but she'll call it soccer so don't laugh at her too much. Now come on, let's find you something that doesn't make you look like a dork.” David lets him go, but doesn't join him at the closet, so Ianto digs through until he finds his nephews favorite shirt, tossing it over his shoulder and grinning at the yelped exclamation- that says he hit his target right in the face. “Get your jeans on, ones with no holes so your mother can't say I'm deliberately dressing you like an urchin and I'll go make sure she doesn't have something equally stupid for your sister to wear. Find your shoes, make sure you've got a book and your DS in case you get bored before the party's over and I’ll tell your mum you're riding with me, cause we're not done talking.” It's hard not to laugh when he hears himself sounding a bit like Jack does when he's letting Owen know the medic hasn't gotten away with whatever he thinks he has, but the voice obviously does the trick as David is half under the bed, looking for his trainers by the time Ianto forces his face straight and lets himself out in the hall.

There's no sound from the bathroom, so Ianto knocks on the closed bedroom door, hand on the doorknob as he eases it open as slowly as possible.

“You're dressed, right, because I still haven't recovered from the last time.”

“Eat shit and die sibling.” That's a yes then. Rhiannon's room isn't quite as big as his and has more than twice the stuff, wardrobes crowding into bookcases and vanities, clothes spilling out of things and tossed around as a testament to how desperately his sister has been looking for something to wear.

“Dammit, that's not dressed!” It's mostly dressed, a slip and stockings, but Ianto isn't kidding about having never quite recovered from being nine and rushing desperately into the bathroom only to fall backwards onto the floor shrieking as his sister stepped out of the shower.

“You're twenty-five Ianto, you're gonna have to let the shower thing go eventually.” She's digging franticly through her closet, hurling things out over her shoulder. “I can't find my fucking dress, the purple one you got me for my birthday last year.” The purple calf length wrap dress that makes his sister look beautiful and is entirely too formal.

“I will never get over that which shall not be spoken of. Rhiannon, don't wear the purple dress, it's too much. Also, I took away those stupid clothes you gave David and put him in jeans and a tee-shirt. You're trying too hard. You didn't make the kids dress up to meet Lisa and you'll regret it if you do it today because at least five of the things Cheyenne's serving are going to be drippy, buttery, or covered in sauce and then you'll be stuck trying to get butter, mustard, and barbeque sauce out of the kids good clothes before you go to church in the morning. Here, get out of the way.” They get into a shoulder checking scuffle in the doorway before she yields sulkily, flopping down onto the queen sized bed as Ianto starts shoving things around in her overstuffed closet. “You've got too much shit Rhi.”

“Go fuck yourself kid. I can't toss any of it, because you know every time I do my weight changes and I need what I just threw out.” He can't deny that this is a tragic and true irony of his sister's life, that every time she cleans out her closet at his urging she either gets pregnant and needs the maternity clothes she just donated, or one of her constant diets shows results and she needs the too small clothes now folded in teetering piles on the closet shelf.

“Well, it's all old and out dated anyway. Next day off I get, we're cleaning it out and if you need them replaced later, I'll do it for you, but these,” He shoves a hand behind himself, waving a pair of singularly unattractive white stretch jeans. “Have got to go.”

“I ought to wear them today for spite.” And because she would _absolutely_ wear clothes she hates just because Ianto told her they're ugly enough for him to give up his day off, he yanks them back and chucks them in the back corner of the closet.

“No, you're wearing this.” There's the red shirt he was looking for, the one with the draping in front and the chunky pebble sized black beads adorning the neckline. “And these.” She curses as he pelts her with the shirt and a pair of black jeans with embroidery on the back pockets. “Hurry up, we're going to be late.”

***

They're halfway to the primary school that volunteered their auditorium for the dance recital before Ianto remembers that he never saw what Mica was going to be changing into.

***

Dance recitals are a special brand of hell. Ianto, David and Johnny have to wade through the sea of mothers, grandparents, and bored children while Rhiannon takes Mica backstage to get her dropped off with her class and finish her costuming. They're jostled by children, exchange long suffering looks of resignation with other adults, and let themselves get herded by the flow of bodies to somewhere in the middle of the auditorium before hitting their only stroke of luck and commandeering an entire side row of four seats on the left side of the room.

By the time Rhiannon finds them, the toddler ballet class are stomping, spinning, and falling over in their little flower costumes to a short piece from the dance of the hours.

“I seem to remember Mica being better than that when she was in that class.” Ianto mutters as he adjusts the settings on his phone to video in low light.

“She was. I love that little yellow flower though.” He looks up at his sister's amused whisper and bites his lip to keep from laughing at the little ginger girl standing completely still on the right side of the stage despite the teacher leaning from backstage to encourage her, finger jammed in her nose.

“Bet you a quid she eats it.”

“Sick. You're on.”

He loses his money, but only because the teacher manages to herd the two and three year olds off the stage before she manages to extract her finger and then he's too busy making sure he has a good shot because the nursery school group is being shooed out onto the stage, Mica the only white chicken surrounded by a small flock of six other children in yellow who take their places with minimum coaxing from the wings, striking their poses as the music cues up.

The entire thing takes less than ten minutes as the children attempt a mostly coordinated piece of choreography based on Swan lake, and he's pretty sure it's more than familial pride that has him convinced Mica is by far the best dancer in her group. Their row makes a bit of a spectacle of themselves, roaring and whistling as Mica crosses her feet neatly, bowing to the audience and not falling over like yellow chick number three next to her.

“Okay, they're going to have a ten minute intermission to set up the six through tens, so if we scurry, we can grab Mica and get out before her teacher has too much time to complain about how it's good for her to stay and support the other dancers.”

The teacher does complain about them grabbing Mica from backstage, going so far as to follow a glowering Rhiannon and cheerful Mica to the side door where Ianto's waiting with David while Johnny brings their car around.

“Look, I understand you want all your dancers supporting each other, but this is my little brother, his girlfriend just got in from overseas and we're running late to see her and the nephew none of us have gotten to meet yet, so this _one_ time, you're just going to have to get over it.” Rhiannon rolls her eyes and lifts Mica onto her hip, still in the chicken suit. “Come on guys, let's go.”

***

David starts sulking again halfway out of town and Ianto can feel his eye starting to twitch as he aims them towards Radyr.

“Spit it out David, cause you're getting grumpy again.”

“I don't see why you had to go and get a new girlfriend and have a baby anyway. It was better before and I still miss Auntie Lisa and you should too.” It hurts more than he thought it would, David's childish insistence that Ianto is forgetting or abandoning Lisa's memory, but he reaches over, resting his left hand on the boy's knee.

“David, I know you loved Lisa a lot, but she's gone buddy and she's been gone a while.” Almost two years as far as the rest of his family is concerned, but David has always been sensitive and he was Lisa's shadow anytime she was around. They ate the same ice cream when the three of them went out, she taught him to kick a football straight when Ianto couldn't, and she took three days unpaid leave from the tower with him to take David to the museum and the play parks when Mica was born. “I do miss her still. A lot sometimes, but it's not fair to be mad at Cheyenne because she's here and Lisa isn't. She's not trying to replace anyone David, and I just want you to give her a fair shot. She's pretty cool, you know. She's been all over the world, she has a bunch of weird stuff from traveling, and your cousin's pretty cute.”

“I don't care how cute he is. You're going to spend all your days off with just him now.”

“I hope not.” He merges over for his exit, flicking his eyes up to the rear view to make sure Rhiannon's paying attention. “I love him very much David, and I know you will too, when you're done being mad at me, but don't forget that _you_ were the first baby I held. You taught me to change diapers, put a fussy baby to sleep, and everything else I need to know to be his dad. I was kind of hoping you'd help me teach him things. How to walk, swim, kick a football in a goal, that kind of stuff. And we'll still go do me and you things David, I'm not gonna disappear just because you have to share me. I promise.”

“What if she doesn't like me?” He almost doesn't hear the boys mumble over the music and only knowing how personally his nephew would take it keeps him from rolling his eyes.

“If Cheyenne doesn't like _you_ then she has gone certifiably insane since I saw her last and I shall shun her thoroughly.”

“You're a dork uncle Ianto.” He grins as the boy giggles, pulling his shades off the visor and slipping them on as the road twists towards the sun.

“Yeah, well it takes on to know one.”

***

“Freakin finally dude! You are a lifesaver. A super _slow_ life saver. When I was having my shit shipped over no one fucking told me I couldn't use stupid ass British gas in my nice normal American grill...” Ianto bites back a wince as Cheyenne hollers over her shoulder, not bothering to look backwards from where she's on her knees half way under a black and chrome monster, feet thumping the ground in frustration.

“She said _three_ bad words! I counted!” Mica's cheerful exclamation from her mother's arms startles Cheyenne if the way she jerks, slamming her head into the underside is any indication. “Now she said four!”

“You, young lady are a very good counter.” It's hard not to watch Cheyenne scoot backwards out from under the grill in her ripped jeans, but his sister digging a knuckle into the middle of his spine and jerking her head at where his nephew is watching him helps. Chy stands up, dusting her hands on her thighs and straightens her Triforce tee shirt before blinking once. “You are also a chicken.”

“Yes I am!”

“And since I'm being obvious, you Sir are early; your kid's still asleep, I haven't started cooking, and you're also not Jack with my new grill.” She puts her hands on her hips, scowling up at him and he cannot believe he was ever worried about awkwardness between her and his sister because Rhiannon is already laughing and shoving past him with her hand out. His stomach sinks a bit as they smile and introduce themselves and he realizes that maybe he should be less worried about someone not fitting in and more concerned with being ganged up on. “Hi, I'm Cheyenne and I was hoping to have the new grill here and some food cooked before you guys got here.”

“I'm Rhiannon and I brought my daughter to your house dressed as a chicken so, you know, one of those kind of days I guess. The big one is my husband Johnny and the little one hiding behind his uncle is David.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances.” It's kind of strange watching her approach David and himself by proximity when Ianto knows he's not even a blip on her radar. She stops next to him and he inwardly cheers when she doesn't bend, stoop, or try to come down for a boy who's already as tall as her sternum, just tilting her head a bit to the side and nodding. “Are you scared of dogs David?” He's not speaking, but he shakes his head before Ianto has to reach back and press his foot down on the smaller one. “Good, because I have two and my boss Jack is and he will be here anytime now with my grill so I can cook. He'll probably wrangle your dad and Uncle into helping him move it, so can I ask you to keep them occupied for just a few minutes while I go get ready? I have a bribe and everything.”

“You don't need to bribe him Chy...” She jabs him. She reaches over and _jabs_ him right in the ticklish spot on his side above his hip, never taking her eyes off David's.

“Not talking to you darlin. Of course I need to bribe him, we don't know each other like that yet and this is a pretty big favor. Lucifer has made it his personal mission to sneak up on Jack and lick him.”

“What kind of bribe are we talking about?” It's the most interested David's sounded all day, so Ianto bites back the need to poke her back, rolling his eyes instead and falling in line next to his sister as Cheyenne begins leading them into the house, bartering with his nephew.

“She knew right where the problem was going to be, didn't she?” Mica is writhing to get down, wanting to run wild around the large lush yard crowing and she's starting to grunt and whine when she can't. “Stop it Mica Davies, you can get down after you get changed.”

“But I took my clothes out and brought a present instead!” His sister is starting to turn dangerously red around the ears and neck and Ianto yanks his niece into his arms before her mother decides to wring her neck like the chicken she's dressed as.

“Breathe deeply and don't kill your children. She's got her leotard and tights, we can figure something out if we must Rhi. What kind of present did you bring, baby?” She's reaching over his shoulder, grabbing for the little Disney princess backpack her father is dangling just out of reach, digging her feet into his already abused liver to gain traction, and Cheyenne has her dogs sitting like wrinkled stone statues as David falls in love with them. The kids at least, are already right at home.

***  
The tour they take is at maximum speed, mostly pointing out bathrooms and cracking open the nursery door so that everyone can get their first peek at Indy, sprawled out on his back with his thumb in his mouth. Rhiannon insists they let Indiana finish his nap, despite the fact that she's obviously dying to go into the nursery and pick him up and Cheyenne takes Mica, chicken suit and all, in her arms.

“All right, gentlemen, we shall figure this chicken thing out and meet you in the yard shortly.” She rocks up onto the ball of her feet, kissing him quickly. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hey.” Mica is making the same obnoxious 'ooooh' that David used to do when he was four, squished between them, except her feet are swinging wildly and this is the second time today she's come within centimeters of giving him a particularly personal injury. “All right, David, you're going to watch the dogs for Chy, right?”

“Yep.” They're following him around, curled tails wiggling as he squeaks a long red ferret-y raccoon-ish thing. “Come on dogs!” 

***

There's a delivery truck in the drive by the time they make it downstairs and Jack's laughing with two men lugging a gleaming black and chrome behemoth around the house.

“Hey, Cheyenne said you weren't gonna be here for another hour or so.” He has greatly underestimated the strangeness of having Jack here at the same time as his family but without the buffer of anyone else around. “Could have saved me from having to bully Owen's car out of him to get here.”

“You're really going to have to get your own car instead of always driving the truck. Johnny Davies, my boss Jack Harkness. Jack, this is my brother in law Johnny and the small heathen running around somewhere with the dogs will be my nephew, David.” Yeah, the weirdness level of Jack and Johnny doing their introduction thing is high. But not as weird as introducing him to Rhiannon will be and Ianto is suddenly, totally convinced that his sister will look at the three of them and know exactly what kind of promiscuous polygamist her baby brother has turned into.

“Well I never had to bother before now.” Jack looks at Ianto like he knows exactly what he's panicking about and is killing himself not to roll his eyes. “I need to get back before Owen calls for the _fifth_ time to tell me to get his damn car back.” The delivery guys come back around the corner and Jack digs out his wallet, tipping them before they wander back towards their lorry. “Give this to Cheyenne,” He plucks out a credit card and checks the name on it before passing it to Ianto. “And tell her I'll try to swing back by for dinner.”

He's not coming back tonight if he leaves and Ianto is suddenly very ashamed of himself when a window on the second floor opens hard enough to draw their attention and Cheyenne sticks her head out.

“Hey! I see you Jack Harkness, so don't you dare move one foot until I get down there! Tell him, my glitterati minion!” Mica sticks her arm out the window loaded with jewelry that Ianto knows for a fact is real, shaking a tiny fist at Jack, fingers clenched tight to keep rings from flying off into the bushes.

“My uncle's girlfriend says you stay _there_!”

“Dear _God_ Cheyenne, don't let her leave your room wearing diamonds, because my heart _literally_ cannot stand the strain of imagining crawling all over your lawn trying to find your tennis bracelet.”

“Your uncle is no fun, Mica. I'm serious Jack, you be there by the time I get down these stairs.” Johnny has his bicep in a tight grip before the window has finished shutting.

“Mate, your crazy girlfriend cannot be letting my one kid wrecking crew run around in diamond tennis bracelets and shit!”

“I swear, if I'd known she was going to go insane I would have done...something. Probably.” No idea what though, when he's not sure how he's even going to explain _why_ the thought of Mica playing in her jewelry is giving them all heart attacks. Ianto can't even imagine what his sister is doing that she didn't have fits about it. Jack snorts.

“Good luck with that one.”

***

Mica is still wearing enough sparkling shit on her body to make his headache, but a distinct lack of clear gems keeps his blood pressure from jumping back through the stratosphere as Mica comes flying out the back door onto the patio. She's got a pink and yellow patterned scarf wrapped around her like a skirt and pinned with a broach of some kind of creamy pink stone dripping a multitude of thin gold chains and beveled pink glass, wrists and upper arms jangling with glass and metal bangles and a tiara that she's already got a chunk of hair tangled around perched crooked on her head.

“Why are you still wearing so much of Chy's jewelry, cariad?” Ianto scoops her up and grimaces as she smacks him in the side of the head with her heavily armored wrists. He takes more injuries from her than aliens some weeks.

“Because it's a _statement_ uncle Ianto.” He should have just checked her change of clothes himself. Johnny just rolls his eyes, used to Mica's bizarre combinations and her ever present defense of them, but Jack looks thoroughly charmed.

“Of course it is. Mica, this is my boss, Captain Jack. Jack, this fashionista is my niece Mica.” The urge to kick Jack in his shin as he leans around Ianto, kissing the back of Mica's hand and making her shriek with shrill giggling pleasure _right in Ianto's ear_ is almost unbearably overwhelming. “Oh, that _sucked_ Mica Lynn Davies. Get down and go find your brother before I hang you by your toes from the trees.” She takes off across the grass and Jack gives him a small smile, eyes sparking as Ianto knocks their shoulders together while Rhiannon is busy showing her husband their first nephew.

“I like your family.”

“Yeah, they're all right. Flirt with my sister the way you did with my niece though and I can't be held responsible for my actions, Sir.”

“Gotcha.”

***

Lunch is late and just a couple of hot dogs and hamburgers for the kids with extras for them to sneak to the dogs. Ianto's waiting on the slabs of ribs sitting in a huge black barrel laid out on wheels around the far corner of the house where Cheyenne won't let the children, and everyone else seems to be of the same opinion.

“My smoker's over there. I am _superstitiously_ serious about making ribs and I use _my_ smoker or I don't do them at all.” This is one of those moments of disconnection that Ianto feels sometimes when he's with Cheyenne. How casually she says things like that, like anyone should just be able to decide they're staying in a foreign country and have a family member lead a team of organizers and movers through the house to pack it all and ship everything overseas, grills and bloody _smokers_ as well, in less than two weeks. Jack breaks the weird tension Ianto can feel in the back of his neck with a story about someone he knew once upon a time who liked American style smoked foods and tried to teach him how to get the same effect with a strange compilation of what Ianto would call trash and it irrationally makes him feel a little better that Cheyenne starts listing gardening equipment along with Jack, laughing along.

And if there are a couple awkward moments in the way his sister and Johnny tense up almost as much as he and Chy when Jack's phone chirps out his Torchwood ring tone, or when David shoves his sister down for some completely unfathomable reason, they're smoothed out pretty easily by passing the baby or the competition Jack and Cheyenne seem to be engaging in to see who can make his family like them better based purely on outrageous and true stories. It's kind of not fair that Cheyenne will win by default, because Jack tells a hell of a story.

***

Cheyenne's small cookout has somehow become huge despite barely knowing anyone according to her. By the time six rolls around, the yard is full of her neighbors, their kids, and people he's never met who keep coming over to him and starting conversations with things like 'you must be Indy's dad, he looks just like you'. It's surreal.

“She'll do.” Rhiannon scares the crap out of him, coming up behind him from nowhere, Indiana in her arms the way he's been _all day_ and at this rate Ianto is going to have to check his sister's bag for his son before she leaves. “She's _tiny_ though, what is she, five feet?”

“Five three I think? Maybe five four, I don't know. She's bigger when she's in a strop.” He holds out his arms and rolls his eyes when Rhi pouts and cradles Indy closer. “Gimme, Rhiannon.” Indiana is starting to get excited now when Ianto picks him up and his little limbs are flailing inside his red overalls when Ianto cradles him up onto his shoulder. “So she officially passes inspection then?”

“Yeah, you can keep her. Since she makes such cute kids and all.” She leans around him to kiss Indiana on the cheek. “Who's my big handsome boy then?”

“Me?” He laughs as his sister reaches up and flicks his ear. “I see how it is, I've been replaced. Come on offspring, I don't have to take this rejection. Let's go see what your mummy is doing.”

His mummy has Jack, Johnny, and Rhys cornered around the house, loading them up with huge trays full of crispy slabs of ribs cooked to a shiny mahogany varnish, and huge blackened chunks of beef. Ianto wasn't even aware Gwen and Rhys had shown up yet and wondered if he was supposed to be keeping track of that today. He's been circulating, making sure the group of parents and minders near the corner of the lawn where kids are running wild have drinks in hand, and introducing people he doesn't really know to people he's just met when he's not giving directions to the loo, but he's not sure how many of the host duties he should be taking over before he runs into one of those boundaries he keeps waiting for with Cheyenne and never hits.

“Owen is going to be very angry he missed those. I should take a picture of them and text it to him right now.”

“Won't work. Tosh got a hold of me,” Jack inclines his head towards what probably looks like his pocket with the mobile to Johnny and Rhys and is actually his wrist strap. “We're officially all clear for fourteen hours for the first time in months. I told them to set everything for overnight and they're on their way.”

“Owen threatened to quit if he didn't get fed.” Cheyenne comes over to him, smelling of wood smoke and sweet-spicy barbeque as she reaches up and takes Indiana. “Trade me. I'll take him, you get that last tray.”

It's heavy enough that Ianto can see why she'd trade him ribs for child and hot enough that it's uncomfortable on his forearms, but he has to admit they probably make a hell of a sight, four grown men required to bring all the meat to the table and lay it out between the huge containers of cold pasta salads, and tossed fresh salads.

“What's that?” He hasn't heard Mica come up behind him and she scares the crap out of him when she wraps her arms around his leg. He has no idea how his family keeps getting the drop on him, but if they ever teach it to aliens then the world is doomed.

“Mary-mother-of-Bride, Mica!” She just grins up at him until he settles the tray and scoops her up. “What is what sweetheart?”

“That!” She points to a large bowl of yellow rice with small shiny black beans scattered through it.

“No idea. Some kind of beans and rice and probably very good, so if you get some you are to taste it and if you don't like it you will put it to the side of your plate _quietly_ , understood?”

“You've got a princess, Ianto!” Gwen comes up behind him, adorable in a light weight pale pink sweater over dark wash jeans, hair up in a half twist. “Who's this?”

By the time he's done introducing Gwen and Rhys to his family Owen and Tosh show up and he has to do it all over again before they can fall into the creeping line making it past the line of folding tables and Ianto's unsurprised to find Rhiannon has taken her place on the other side of the table next to Cheyenne, dishing up spoonfuls of beans and salads.

“Good, there you are. Put that girl down; she's entirely big enough to walk on her own feet and then she gets lazy after you've been around and wants everyone to carry her all day.” He and Mica share a pout as he sets her on her feet between himself and Gwen. “Now stop goofing off and get around here to help your girlfriend. She's losing the battle with your boss about serving the meats. Her Da can finish fixing her plate.”

Jack is indeed winning the battle of cutting the meat, simply by holding the carving knife and fork up over his head as Cheyenne scolds him roughly about being a guest in her home.

“You already came early, went to the store for me and convinced them to deliver almost immediately, helped me set up chairs, go sit the fuck down and eat Jack!”

“I like helping and I carve a pretty mean brisket, unlike the man sneaking up behind me who has likely never carved a proper brisket in his life.”

“I'm not sneaking up on the crazy man holding carving utensils. He's right about the brisket thing, never carved one in my life...whatever it is. It's fine, he'll carve, I'll pass out ribs, and we can be eating before everyone else finishes.”

***

They do _not_ eat before everyone else finishes, because these people never finish eating. Owen, the utter pig, has already been back to the table twice and he stands opposite Ianto, grinning as he gestures for what is seriously his sixth rib to be placed on top of his pile of beans and rice.

“Just so you know, I will hurt myself saving this one for when I get in to work. I'm going to _ruin_ the upstairs while you're busy doing something else.” He will too. Owen has no shame when it comes to clogging the pipes at work, unlike every other human being Ianto knows, and delights in waiting until Ianto is out of the tourist office to use the ancient substandard toilet in the back behind the beaded curtain.

“If you do, I will drown you in the...”

“Not the time and place gentlemen.” Jack leans over and jabs the medic in the shoulder. “Get lost.”

“Eat me.”

Ianto grimaces and then forces it into an uneasy grin as he notices Cheyenne's neighbor, the old woman with the dog from the day he and Jack broke in. “Sorry about that. No one has worse manners at a dinner table than a doctor.”

“I've got six boys and eleven grandsons, some of whom are scattered around here somewhere. It'll take more than that to put me off my dinner. Also, the locusts will continue to descend until you step away from the table, so if you plan on eating tonight...”

“We've got it Evie, the buffet line is closed for business before everyone gets too full to go home.” Cheyenne comes up behind him, sticking her thumb through his belt loop as she reaches around and grabs one of the ribs off the tray. “Make sure you save room for desert. I didn't make a single thing on the table, but the bakery came recommended by very reliable sources.” The woman arches her eyebrow and moves away from the table, scolding a child that appears out of nowhere to snatch a cookie from the far table. “I wanna be bossy and contrary like that when I get old.”

“You're bossy and contrary now.” There's barbeque sauce on her mouth as Ianto kisses her. “I thought you only knew something like twenty people including the team.”

“That was last week. Come on, let's pull Jack away from his adoring meat loving public and eat. He's enjoying the attention too much and that girl going up for thirds is a vegan from my yoga class.”

***

Ianto's been trying to keep an eye on David all day, but he lost track of the boy about the time he was pulled onto the buffet line and he's not on the patio with the rest of the family or out in the yard with the group of neighborhood kids.

“Rhi, where's David gone off to?”

“I thought he was with you.” Ianto puts his full plate on the glass table with a sigh, waving his sister back to her seat as she goes to hand Indiana off to Johnny who's already trying to eat around Mica's limp sleepy weight in his lap.

“Finish your dinner; I'll go find him, but if a weaselly little man with a mouth as big as his face gets near my plate, guard it with your life.”

David isn't lurking out by the edges of the property, isn't tucked up under the food tables sneaking biscuits, or around the front of the house.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt.” Cheyenne is leaning against the wall, chatting with a couple she introduced as other parents from Indy's daycare when Ianto leans forward, lowering his voice. “No one's seen David since before dinner started, have you run into him?”

“No. Excuse us please.” She slides her arm into Ianto's with a smile, turning and dropping her plate on the nearest flat surface. “He's not having much fun, is he? There are a couple good boy-sized hiding spots around the side of the house with the smoker and a nice climbable tree. Go check over there and I'll take a walk through the inside. He probably just went in for the head and got distracted peeking through things.”

David isn't around the west side of the house and Ianto isn't impressed that he had to duck under two huge hedges and shimmy up a sprawling crab apple tree to find it out. He's picking leaves out of his hair still as he makes his way into the house. Faintly he can hear the soft cadence of Cheyenne's voice coming from up the stairs and he rolls his eyes at the fact that she found his wayward nephew and didn't bother sticking her head out the window to save him a climb up a tree. The stairs are quiet as he steps lightly up them, picking his way through the dark hall towards the furthest room and moving quicker as he hears the familiar hitch of breath that says David is struggling to keep it together.

“You're just having a rough day, aren't you?” Cheyenne's voice is sympathetic and Ianto pauses in the doorway of a fledgling office, desks and bookcases having replaced the bedroom furniture that used to be there, but full of boxes still unpacked. She looks up from her spot on the floor next to the balled up figure of David with his sandy head resting on his own knees and shakes her head until he backs around the corner. “Is it just me hogging all Ianto's time today, or did someone say something downstairs that upset you, because that's not going to fly at my house.”

“Because you're dating my uncle.”

“Well, a little, but also because you were kind enough to do me a favor even though I'm not sure you like me, and because the only one allowed to be a jerk at my house is me.” David makes a little sound, half amusement and half hurt feelings and Ianto pulls out his phone, texting his sister to let her know they have her son in the house as he listens to David describe a day that's been utterly miserable, from spilling juice in his cereal this morning to a bigger kid who accidentally knocked him over at dinner time and spilled his food.

“He was sorry, but it was just too much awful in the same day!” His nephew is crying and that's his cue, no matter how much bonding Chy and David might be doing. Cheyenne looks relieved to see him but doesn't stop the steady long strokes up and down the length on his back until Ianto has David lifted in his arms.

“All right, I've got you.” David winds his arms and legs around him tightly and Ianto is very glad that he wrestles Weevils all week long, because the boy is almost too big to hold like this. “Come on, let's go wash your face.”

“I'll go fix another plate. Ribs, pasta salad no olives, and corn, right David?” Ianto tries not to shudder as what he hopes are tears and is most likely snot gets rubbed across his neck when the boy nods. He must make a face that comes close to reflecting how he actually feels because Cheyenne has to put her hand over her mouth and scurry out of the room, leaving him to carry his entirely too large nephew into Cheyenne's room and the en suite.

“I'm sorry you're not having any fun.” The counter under the mirror is long enough for Ianto to shove things down towards the wall and plunk David down next to the sink while he runs warm water over a face towel.

“She's gonna think I'm a crybaby.”

“Nope. Remember, what's the most important rule about uncle Ianto?” The boy rolls eyes as blue as his mum's and grimaces as Ianto scrubs snot, tears, dirt, and mustard off his face.

“Uncle Ianto has implecable taste in all things?”

“Impeccable. Impeccable taste in all things, and that includes women. Cheyenne has four brothers and a butt load of nephews of her own. You are not the first bloke she's seen in tears David, you're probably not even the messiest one, but it may have been close. Tilt your face up.” Something thumps his legs and Ianto looks down to see the dogs butting against David's feet. “Well, no day where you gain two new admirers is a total wash.”

“Oh, I think he has four at least.” Rhiannon comes in, thumping him gently out of the way with her shoulder. “Cheyenne is trying to fit the entire desert table on a plate for you and your cousin has been watching you every time you walk by, You haven't gotten to hold him yet, have you darling? Come on, you can help put him to sleep while you make yourself sick on cakes.”

***

David does not make himself sick on cakes, but it's a near thing; instead he slides into a well fed stupor while holding Indiana on the lounger; Mica curled up against his hip, Indy asleep on his chest. Ianto hates to use the word, even in his own head, but it's precious and he does not let Owen's running commentary about what a big girl's blouse he is stop him from taking roughly ten different pictures of the three of them tangled around each other.

“Here,” Jack reaches across his shoulders, great coat dangling from his hand. “It's starting to get chilly.” The last of the summer nights are passing and there's a bite to the air now that wasn't there half an hour ago. Owen snorts from somewhere off to Ianto's right.

“Before you two start sharing a _tender moment_ , the Teaboy's sister is coming this way.” Jack slides around Ianto, settling the slate colored wool over all three of them without covering anyone's face as Cheyenne and Rhiannon come chattering around the corner in the middle of a group of women who all stop short and exhale a simultaneous girly noise.

“That was both eerie and extremely sexy at the same time.” Ianto turns on Owen's low murmur with a glower that has the medic grinning. “What? I see at least seven women in that crowd and only two of them are any of your business. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go see if the blonde from yoga wants to go get a drink. Also, your family is not _nearly_ boring enough to be related to you. Night Jones.”

“Well, Owen's not one to rest on his hands, is he?” Jack's back, shoulders brushing Ianto's as he smirks at where the blonde already has her hand resting on Owen's arm, smiling coyly up through her bangs as he dangles his keys from his finger.

“You do have to admire that kind of dedication to the Fine and Noble art of the Pull. I'm a bit surprised at you actually, you've been downright circumspect today.” He grins and doesn't look over his shoulder at Jack, gives in instead to the ridiculous urge to take a picture of Rhiannon and Cheyenne taking pictures of the kids. “Did you only get six numbers today?”

“Well, seven, but two of them were the cell numbers of a nice couple so you can count it as one I guess.” Jack chuckles and leans just a bit forward, pitching his voice low enough to barely carry. “I've had my hands full lately. Oh, and Owen just left with the yoga girl, so I might need a ride later.”

“Absolutely Sir, and would you like a lift home also?” The hiss of Jack's indrawn breath makes Ianto struggle to force down his blush.

“These people need to go home _now_.”

“I'll see what I can do Sir.”

***

It doesn't take much to get people moving. It's creeping further from eight and closer to nine and people with children are hitching sleeping bodies up on hips or steering yawning mini-zombies towards cars already when Rhiannon reminds him that he promised to take David home as well. The boy doesn't quite wake up, despite the vigorous shaking Ianto gives him, so he hitches his nephew up on his hip and wanders around the thinning crowd until he finds Cheyenne and Jack boxing up food and coaxing and bullying people into taking as much as possible with them.

“I've got to take David home first, I'll be back in about half an hour, forty minutes to help you get everything picked up.”

“Oh, wait, he almost ran off without his bribe. Hold on, I'll be right back. Jack, make these people take food away.” Cheyenne disappears in through open patio door and Jack grins and starts hiding things under the table.

“I'm taking _all_ of this back with me and Myfanwy and I will enjoy it about three this morning. Go get that box of creme cakes off the table before someone else gets them, I want those too.”

“Scavenging is unattractive Jack.” But the box says Sands on it and Jack will sulk if someone else walks off with it, so Ianto rolls his eyes and snatches the still full box off the table for Jack to hide. “You're a bloody locust.”

“I am _always_ attractive. We've had this conversation Ianto.”

“You're both very pretty.” Cheyenne pops up behind him, staring down at the huge box in her hand and setting it very gently on the table. “Right, so while I have yet to meet the little boy who doesn't like fossils...”

“You've got fossils?” David isn't really awake, but he's suddenly making a good effort, squirming in Ianto's arms to look down at the piles of bubble wrap Cheyenne is setting out.

“I sure do. Peru has a lot of fun things to do if you're a great big nerd like me and I went digging for some while I was there. I've got some spiral thingies, some plant thingies, a handful of teeth from sharks most likely, half a foot print and a broken bone. Want one?”

“Yes please.” He's slurring his words in the crook of Ianto's neck, but David manages to force his eyes open when Cheyenne reaches up and wraps his fingers around something black and ominous looking.

“That thing's still sharp millions of years later, so you can't let your sister play with it okay? I'll give the big one to your uncle.” Ianto has no idea how she knows which one of the mostly identical bubble wrap rectangles to grab, or if she's picking randomly, but she shifts a couple and grabs one, tucking it into the cargo pocket on his jeans. “It was very nice to meet you David.”

“Bye.” He hums into Ianto's neck as Cheyenne rubs his back as she stretches up to brush Ianto's lips with hers.

“Tell your sister Mica can keep those bangles, I picked up a lot of them in India for all the little girls I know. Hurry back.”

***

The ride back to town is peaceful, just David breathing quietly over the soft sound of the radio and his sister's headlights in the rear view mirror as they weave through the lighter evening traffic until he pulls up in front of their flat. Shuffling the kid out of the car is more work than just carrying him up to his bed, so Ianto falls in line behind his brother-in-law on the stairs. David doesn't wake up, not even as he's stripping the tiny body down to undershirt and boxers and tucking him under the blankets. Prying the three inch long fossilized tooth out his of hand is trickier, but Ianto gets it free and sets it on the nightstand on top of the larger wrapped rectangle before flicking on the closet light and leaving the door cracked as he backs out of the room carefully.

“Hey,” Rhiannon is in Mica's room, trying to untangle the tiara from her daughter's hair without waking the sleeping girl. “David's tucked in and I left the closet light on for him.”

“Thanks firefly.”

“I hate that.”

“I know. Come help me get all this off her so you can take it back where it belongs.” The scarf and pin are already on the little dresser at the foot of the bed. Ianto slips through the door, voice pitched low as he kneels at the edge of the bed and starts unlooping strands of his niece's fine hair from swoops and swirls of metal.

“Cheyenne says those bracelets are for Mica to keep.” Rhiannon looks at him from the corner of her eye and he shrugs. “They're just glass and brass Rhi, honest. She bought a mess of them in India for _her_ nieces.” His side comes free seconds before his sister's does and Rhiannon lofts it in triumph before slapping it into the palm of his hand.

“Well, then I won't wake her up trying to get them off.” Her voice is a quiet croon as she leans over her daughter and in the dim pale light of the nightlight in the corner she looks and sounds so much like she did ten years ago, perched on the side of his bed talking him through whatever teenage angst was bothering him that night that it's impossible not to give in to the urge to hug her tightly.

“Did I ever tell you what a great job you did raising me after we lost mum?” His words are muffled in her hair, but she hears them clearly and snorts fondly, tossing one arm over his shoulder to ruffle his hair.

“Everytime you get drunk or sappy. Besides, I know I did a fabulous job. I can tell every time I look at you. Now get lost, I'm ready to go curl up with my husband and a couple beers and watch some telly.” She presses her lips to the side of his head and she's been wearing the same perfume since he was ten at the nape of her neck and behind her ear that's cheap and kind of strong when it first goes on, but he hasn't been able to talk himself or her into trying something else. “I love your kid, and your girlfriend gets the stamp of approval, but go away, seriously, my show's coming on in ten minutes.”

***

He speeds back because the day's been better than he thought it would be even with half a dozen mix ups and fuck ups, and because he's not sure if the thought of Jack and Chy starting without him makes him a bit jealous or is just really hot, but mostly because he just can.

***

The front door is locked, but there are still lights around the side of the house, so Ianto rolls his eyes and goes around the brick house to the back yard, squeezing past hedges and trying not to trample the stupid flowers. There's a noise around the corner and Ianto suddenly, desperately, hopes that those are not Chy's dogs, because he's not sure if a couple treats and the fact that they allow him to hold Indy under their careful constant gaze will make up for the fact that he's in black jeans and a grey jumper sneaking around her house in the dark.

The rustling is a rabbit that jumps so quickly out of the hedges as Ianto comes around the corner that he almost blows the top of it's little bunny head across the flagstones. His breath is shaky on the laugh that bursts out of him as he thumbs the safety back on and slides the pistol back into it's holster. The tables have been folded and stacked against the wall and the back door left unlocked. There's no one in the kitchen or dining room and he lets himself flip lights off behind himself as he pokes his head into the living room as well before taking the stairs two at a time. Her bedroom is disappointingly empty, but there's a light and music coming from the office space.

“You two were _unpacking_ , really?” They're side by side on the floor, boxes that were stacked in the corners open on the floor and surrounded by more photo albums than Ianto thinks he's ever seen in any one place.

“Well, I had planned on having him put up a shelf for me so I could shamelessly stare, but he saw a trophy from back when I ran track and we got sidetracked.”

“Come look at these.” And there go just about every half formed sexy thought that's drifted through Ianto's head for the past hour because there's very little that can distract Jack Harkness as thoroughly as digging through someone else’s past, and there's something so ironic and tragic about that Ianto can't actually think about it for too long.

“Alright, scoot over, let's go snooping.” Cheyenne moves since Jack doesn't seem to be giving up his spot in the wide semi-circle of photos, making room for him to squeeze in and slumping over Jack's back with her ankle hooked around Ianto's.

Jack seems to be looking at everything at once; not in any kind of order. There are Polaroids of a tiny fairy princess tucked between superheroes and zombies with pumpkin shaped buckets dangling from their fingers, grainy newspaper shots of a girls track team wearing medals, five by seven's of gangly teenagers with coltish limbs sprawled over each other and game systems in hand, Cheyenne trapped in the middle and not much bigger than the small redhead on her lap.

“Oh, you were _really_ small as a kid weren't you?” Jack is stalled on a collection of pictures from her early teens where her brothers appear to shoot up like weeds in every new shot while she stays petite and large eyed.

“I spent half the summer I was thirteen in tears because I thought I was going to be four foot two for the rest of my life and the other half being really glad I wasn't growing the way the boys were. Zane and James had it worst, they grew nine inches that summer. _Nine_ in two and a half months; they spent most that summer flat on their backs trying to pretend they didn't keep spontaneously collapsing into tears because every bone in their body was growing too fast and it was miserably hot but they hurt too much to get out of bed and go swimming. Poor James, he was _miserable_ that summer.” Her fingers stall on a picture of herself, slight body curled up on the arm of a couch almost as battered and broken as the one on the main floor of the Hub, reading out of a book being held by a small blond boy with dirt on his face and arms as she rubs at a huge foot in her lap.

“You look like Wendy and the lost boys. How many kids am I looking at there?” Ianto leans closer, trying to pick out the different blond heads or scabby knees scattered around the couch.

“Seven. Poor Jed had seven big, blonde, rowdy boys. Five went into the service, one's still at home helping his daddy run the garage, and I think Colby's still in jail but we always kind of knew Colby was gonna have to learn the hard way.”

***

It's closer to midnight than not by the time Ianto pulls his car into his parking space in the loading bay and kills the engine. Jack is leaning against the door, watching him through hooded eyes and failing not to look as tired as he obviously is.

“When's the last time you slept, Jack?” The bottom of Jack's shirt rides up, baring a sliver of smooth tanned skin across the edge of his hip as the older man stretches as hard as he can in Ianto's compact.

“Night Cheyenne came back to town. I'm fine, I can still go another week or so.”

No, actually he can't, not without dying again, and they both know it.

“Come on, I'll help you carry your obscene amount of food inside.” Jack doesn't get out of the car, slumping down into his seat instead with a little shiver.

“Nope. Say it again.”

“You have an _obscene_ amount. Some might call it _lewd_. Now come on.” Ianto leans across the center console and rests his weight on the hand he splays wide on Jack's seat between his sprawled legs, draping the other around the headrest to keep his balance as he breathes into the immortal's ear. “Let's get everything tucked away _just_ where I want it.” He slides out of the car door and if he swaggers a bit, he is trying to put on a bit of a show; enough of one to end with Jack sprawled out and exhausted on his bed. His Captain is an enigma, wrapped in a mystery and swaddled in thick layers of extremely predictable habits and preferences. He hasn't counted to ten yet from the time he opens the back door to get out the piles of tupperwear to Jack twisting half in the seat, fingers tangled in Ianto's hair as he yanks his head up to meet Jack's mouth. The angle has Ianto sprawled half out of the back seat, one knee braced on the leather interior as he lets Jack kiss him hard and deep, all soft lips and nipping teeth that's almost too good to pull back from.

“Jack, not the place.”

“The back seat is always an acceptable place to have really fantastic sex.” He ducks Jack's grab for him again and manages to snag the plastic boxes of food, brandishing them like a shield as he tries to make his face stern.

“I don't have six feet of back seat space to stretch out in, and there's a front seat and a rear windscreen in the way of spreading you out and fucking you the way I want to, so are we going in or not?”

“Well, hard to argue when you put it that way. Hand me some of that food.”

Myfanwy shrieks and circles above them as they hit the main floor, scolding and begging in equal measure until Jack stops and sets everything down on Suzie's old workstation, shuffling through until he comes up with a massive end of meat and jogs up the stairs to toss it into the air. The pterosaur folds her wings tight, rolling as she falls towards it and snapping them out to jerk herself into a glide that brings her even with the chunk of meat arcing downwards long enough to snatch it out of the air.

“Good catch! Take it home!” She wheels back upwards to her aerie and Jack locks her in for the night with his wrist strap before heading into the kitchen and thumping his stack on the counter next to Ianto's as the younger man leans half into the old clunking refrigerator to rearrange the jumble of left over take away and soda bottles of all sizes to make room.

“I'm cleaning this out in the morning. I'll be right up, as soon as I've figured out how to get all of this in there.”

By the time he finishes shuffling things around to get everything barely contained in the old icebox, the entry lights on the overnight setting have gone off again, leaving the kitchen and Jack's office the only two islands of light in the darkness. Ianto picks his way through the blackness by route, making his way up the stairs to the glass doors.

Jack is sprawled out on the couch in his office sipping at a glass of something golden in his hand as he flips through the reports and readings from the day, coat neatly hung by the door, over-shirts and socks tossed in a crumpled pile near the hatch to his bunker.

“I poured you one, I'll just be a few minutes finishing this up.” The cut glass full of honey dark whiskey is sitting on the edge of the desk and Ianto snags it, sipping at it as he hooks his fingers in the legs of Jack's trousers, lifting his legs in the air high enough to slide under them and letting them thump back down into his lap.

“Thanks.” He leans back, arms sprawled across the back of the couch sipping at his drink and ignoring Jack's twitchy feet in his lap. “Lots to look at?” The foot closest to his body has flopped over and is jiggling, the tops of Jack's toes brushing rhythmlessly against his inseam and the swelling length of his cock trapped there.

“No, pretty standard non-invasive day.” The random jiggling becomes a regular rhythmic rub and Ianto can see the edge of Jack's mouth trying not to curl upwards from the corner of his eye as he spreads his legs to make room to adjust himself.

“Can I help you with something Jack?” The immortal man just grins, never looking up from the files in his hands.

“Nope.” The feet in his lap twist until the sole of one massive foot is mostly covering the hard line of Ianto's cock, rubbing and squeezing until he drops his head back onto the pillow of his outflung arm. “Just keeping myself occupied while I finish up.”

“Ah. Well, far be it for me to get in the way of efficiency.” Ianto tosses his drink back in one long swallow and slumps down, twisting his hips until Jack's foot covers his length fully and ignoring the burning in his ears as the other man chuckles deep and sexy. “Work away then.”

Ten minutes later he's sprawled wide at the end of the couch, face flushed and lips bitten as he rocks up into the undulating pressure working it's way from the base of his length up to the slick sticky mess of precome in his boxers over the head and back again.

“God, Jack, aren't you bloody _done_ yet?”

“I finished, oh let me think, five or six minutes ago.” Ianto snaps his head up and wastes a perfectly good glare when Jack slides his toes up and squeezes the head of his cock with them until Ianto's eyes flutter. “You just looked so good I thought I'd see if I could get you to come in your pants before you noticed.”

“You are such a dick.” The couch shifts as Jack shifts onto his knees, crawling down the length of the couch and over Ianto, slotting his hips between the boy's spread thighs and rocking against him until he moans.

“You love it. So,” The smell of Jack, spicy sweet and sexy, is thick in the air as he presses closer, sinking his teeth into the junction of Ianto's shoulder before soothing the sting with the plush flat of his tongue. “still need a bed, or will the couch do?”

“Bed.”

There's a trick to getting more than one person in Jack's bunker at the same time. Ianto kicks his shoes off by the couch and ignores Jack's complaining that he's too rough on the furniture as he drops neatly through the hatch, already shifting his weight towards the head as the springs creak and the entire double sized cot threatens to tip him onto the floor the way it did the first time he dropped into Jack's bunker. From there he scrambles onto the floor to turn on the lamp by the bedside table while Jack clears the manhole, because there are only a handful of ways the two of them manage to fit on that bed at the same time and almost every one of them requires nudity and entanglement. Stripping in the bunker isn't much better. It's long and narrow, made smaller by the cast off furniture and Jack moves in it just fine from years of familiarity, but Ianto still has a tendency to knock his elbows against the low ceiling when wriggling out of his shirts. The bathroom, with it's massive clawfoot copper tub and still lit by gaslights, is the only redeeming feature to the entire thing. Ianto yanks his head out of his shirt and grins at Jack, already nude and sprawled across the bed, hands tucked under his head.

“So, everything _just_ where you wanted it Mr. Jones?” Ianto loves that smirk of Jack's, the one that promises to rock his fucking world right _now_ and he grins back, stalking towards the bed as he measures the distance.

“Almost sir.” He lunges and the bed creaks alarmingly as Ianto lands on hands and knees over Jack, laughing as Jack grabs him around the waist. “There we go.”

“You're going to break my bed.” The grumbling protest melts into a rumbling groan when Ianto tangles his hands deep in Jack's hair, clenching his fingers and pulling back to bare the long tan length of Jack's throat for his teeth.

“If you haven't broken it yet Jack I'll take my chances.” There's not enough room on the double to spread his legs as far as they can go without one of them slipping off the mattress, but Ianto knows the dimensions of the bed well enough to let his knees slide smoothly across the sheets until they're resting right against the edge. The head of his cock rests right against the tender skin at the crease in Jack's thigh and Ianto grins around the bruise he's gnawing into the side of Jack's throat as he rocks against the warm soft spot, slicking it up as he squirms and shifts his weight to keep Jack from moving him where the older man wants him. “Quit it, patience is a virtue.”

“I'm not very virtuous at the best of times, particularly when you're being a brat and a cocktease.”

“You love it.” The fresh bruise is already trying to fade and Ianto sucks hard on it one more time. “But if you're in a hurry, you can always roll over and grab the headboard to hold this rickety piece of shit together.”

“Stop insulting my bed.” The annoyance in his voice is almost as hot as the easy way he rolls under Ianto without knocking him off balance, dragging his knees under himself and raising that incredible ass of his into the air as soon as Ianto has slid off him. The light from the bedside table is soft and yellow across their skin when he drapes himself over Jack, nipping at his shoulder as he reaches for the drawer on the nightstand, searching for the condoms by feel. That's too bumpy for what he's reaching for, that's the wrong shape, and the pliant not quite cold _thing_ beneath his fingertips is very obviously a new toy and not necessarily from Earth if Ianto is actually touching a single object. Under him Jack chuckles and rolls his hips. “You just went really still, find something interesting?”

“If you're asking if I just stuck my hand on something that might be both an anemone and a dildo, I think so. You can show it to me later, I'm not in the mood for anything that takes instructions tonight.” Not when he's just wrapped his hand around what he was looking for. “Any requests while I'm in here?”

“Not if you don't want to read the instructions first.” The lube is in it's normal spot thankfully and Jack goes limp under him, relaxing down onto his folded arms, all but purring when he hears the click of the lid. The small of Jack's back is warm as Ianto stretches his hand across it, pressing down until Jack's spread as wide as the bed will allow.

“There we go. Jesus, you're sexy Jack.” He works him open slowly, one slick finger at a time watching the way Jack stretches and opens under him, squirming and moaning into the pillow as Ianto rests back onto his heels and watches Jack fucking back onto his hand. “So unbelievably fucking sexy.”

Getting the condom open and on with just his teeth and left hand is a pain, but not worth pulling free of Jack when he's been working him into a whining mess for almost ten minutes now. Not until he's got cock covered and slick. Then it's a matter of letting Jack fuck back on him eagerly, opening around him smoothly as Ianto works his hips hard and deep.

“That's good. Like that, just like that. Yeah, I can come like this.” Of course he can come spread wide enough that's he's going to cramp if they fuck too long without a single touch on his cock, because Jack fucks like he was born to do nothing else. Jack fucks like every wet dream Ianto has ever had and the way he _smells_ , Christ Almighty, sometimes Ianto just has to bury his face in the nape of Jack's neck, the curve of his spine, anywhere he can sink in his teeth and breathe him in deep.

“You're supposed to. _God you smell good_.” Fucking Jack makes him shameless, willing to grab too hard, fuck too rough, and say every thing that floats through his head. “Could fuck you _forever_.”

“Nu-uh.” That growl, right there, is one of Ianto's favorite sounds ever, words slurring under the whisper of an accent that only comes out when the immortal man is tired or blissed. “You're too close. Gonna come _hard_.”

“Yeah.” He is, can feel it starting to curl hot and tight inside him. “But not before you.” Ianto's fingers sink deep into Jack's hair, jerking his head far enough back to bow his back sharply and leave him scrambling for balance against the sheets with his fingertips. “Come on Jack, love it when you come for me.” Ianto bends forward, snapping roughly into the whining man under him and sinks his teeth sharply into the tender skin where back curves to side and that does it. Jack comes under him with a roar, untouched cock spilling across the sheets and Ianto lets himself fall after him. He's still draped over the older man, panting for air when Jack starts kicking at him.

“Off. My hips are killing me.”

“You're old, stretching's good for you.” Jack kicks at him again and Ianto feels their knees slipping off the bed too late to do anything but try and remember how to absorb the fall when he's still foggy brained, and by then he's on the floor, glaring up at Jack who's wincing down at him. “Don't. Just don't. Don't say you're sorry, don't complain your butt hurts because I _fell out_ , and don't you dare fucking laugh. My _back_.” Ianto grimaces, lifting his hips and digs around under himself, yanking Jack's trousers with the belt still in them out from under himself and waving them at the man trying very hard to keep a straight face. “If I end up with a bruise shaped like your belt buckle and anyone sees it, I'm telling them you hit me with it.”

“That's not funny.”

“Funny for me. Help me up.” He reaches up and lets Jack yank him back to his feet, kicking the top sheet off the bed and onto the floor as he tugs Ianto down almost on top of him, hooking his foot around Ianto's ankle and burying his face in the mess of black curls.

“I'm not moving again. Dig around in the night table and find the wipes.”

“Lazy sod.” Ianto turns the light off since he's already reaching that way and Jack protests with a grumble that's already more sleep than annoyance. “You don't need the light on Jack. If you can't find your arse in the dark by now, you've got bigger problems than I'm equipped to help you with.”

“You're such a mean little shit.” The tired laugh is huffed against the curve of his ear and the bed creaks alarmingly as the two of them wiggle in the dark trying to get cleaned up and reach the rubbish bin without moving too much. “If the bed breaks it's your fault.”

“Shut up about your ancient bed and go to sleep Jack. If it breaks I'll buy you a new one.” The laugh against his skin is quiet and trails off into a yawn.

“You could, but how would you get it down here? So you shut up, we're sleeping now.” Ianto resists rolling his eyes, no point in the dark, and flops over onto his side, letting Jack wrap around him and drop into sleep with a suddenness that was startling at first. It's been a good day, almost good enough to keep him from dreading what Christmas is going to be like.

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how glad I am to be back in my own home, with my own internet, and back to work. This came back from my super-duper spectacular beta czarina_kitty today who did not abandon me when I disappeared for many moons. She's got the fully finished Catch and Release in her hands, and I'm working on 'A decade under the influence' now which is an original story line with lots of Owen back story. By the way, did I mention I missed you?


End file.
